


Master of Ceremonies

by heycherie



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Kink, Post-Season 5, Rough Sex, i mean its not THAT rough, idk what to tag this, is this pwp? maybe, oops i excluded johnny from the family?, this isnt how tags work but i really dont know what to tag, wherein i use punctuation however the hell i feel like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 06:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19245559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heycherie/pseuds/heycherie
Summary: David loves his fiancé. He also loves his fiancé's performance for Cabaret. He loves his fiancé's costume maybe too much.Or: a newly engaged David Rose doesn't get to "celebrate" with his brand new sexy fiancé, and he gets wildly sexually frustrated.





	Master of Ceremonies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marxeline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marxeline/gifts).



> The prompt I received was: Coda to S5 finale – just engaged, David borrows Patrick's Cabaret costume.  
> I may have deviated just a little? I hope this is on brand though to what you were hoping for!
> 
> I was really anxious to write this, but then I wrote it and it’s complete and shiny and new and I hope you like it :)
> 
> I'm not in love with the title, so I mean, let me know if y'all can think of something better lol

It is the day of opening night of Cabaret and David has been engaged to Patrick for just over 24 hours now. He can feel it buzzing under his skin, like a low dose of electricity—it’s not unwelcome. All day he has been struggling with forcing this dopey smile off his face; he was going to get crow’s feet. But this is also not unwelcome.

This feeling is better than when there’s something in the news about Oprah. He might venture to say better than something in the news about Mariah, but that would be a dangerous claim so he doesn’t think about it.

When David makes his way over to the theater, he sees Patrick in _the outfit_ for the first time, and he has to pause. It does things to him. Things that make him not able to think or form words for a moment. _Fuck_. He had meant to storm in and seek out Patrick’s comfort first thing, and he does eventually, but not before stopping there in the entryway to admire his fiancé. The white tank clings to him and shows off his broad shoulders, his neck, his chest. He can see Patrick’s nipples through it and he immediately wants to have one in his mouth. David wants to pull on the straps that wrap around his torso and force Patrick’s body closer. And oh my God, there’s straps that straddle his crotch, too, outlining it like a personal showcase to David. He’s forgotten what he was even upset about. He feels thirsty for Patrick in a way that’s sudden and overpowering, as if he hasn’t touched him in weeks, instead of having cuddled in bed with him just this morning. He wants to touch. He does touch; he reaches out and strokes his hand over Patrick’s shoulder, then his chest. He lingers.

“David,” Patrick says, and it’s half-warning, half-something else. But he still kisses him before he has to leave for warm-up, so it’s all right.

Then, there's the moment David sees Patrick step out onto that stage, not just wearing the MC costume, but playing the part, _becoming_ that flamboyant character. _Patrick_ , his straight leg, mid-range denim-wearing business major. The love of his life. His fiancé. David’s smile is ever-growing as Patrick performs and parades across the stage. It feels like it’s all just for David all over again, Patrick’s eyes finding his in the crowd as he makes obscene gestures. He has never seen Patrick be so… lewd in public before.

David is struck again by just how amazing Patrick is on stage. He is so inspired in this moment by Patrick’s talent and his commitment, and he feels himself swell with pride and admiration for his man. God, he loves him. David wants to sing his praises and tell him how good he is; make him feel good. He wants to tell Patrick how hot his performance is and how smitten David is, and he wants to make him pant. He wants Patrick to never take the outfit off and simultaneously wants to peel it off him slowly and see what happens. He squirms in his seat. David wants to eat him.

It’s a tragedy when Patrick takes it off for the after party and returns to his normal Patrick clothing. At least David can still revel in the over-the-top stage makeup.

X

Nothing goes as he wants at the after party-turned engagement announcement. Nothing had been going the way he had wanted all day.

He had a _plan_ and no one cares. But they should care, because David has never gotten to plan something so momentous, has never achieved anything this special, has never had a love of his life to care about him enough to actually want to spend the rest of their life with him. They were supposed to listen to him and they were not supposed to make stupid jokes at his expense and they were supposed to be weeping. His mother is weeping, but it was not supposed to be while cramped in her closet and it was not supposed to be about herself.

And he’s going to miss Alexis, and he is a little resentful of her for leaving so soon after his engagement, but then he also feels guilty for feeling resentful because she is growing as a person and that’s… good. So he decides to pack it away neatly for now, but it’s still not what he wants.

It feels like the focus is on everyone else—has been all day—and David wants to be selfish. He wants praise and for people to congratulate him.

What he really wants is to drag Patrick into a corner and devour him. He wants to put that MC costume back on Patrick and explore his body and reenact that thrusting he did earlier in the beginning of the show.

He wants Patrick to make him forget everything; make him feel better.

He wanders over to Patrick and stokes a hand over his chest, then rests it on his shoulder.

“You were so great, by the way. So sexy,” David says into his ear.

Patrick ducks his head, but smiles gently. “Thanks,” he mutters. “How are you, by the way?” He doesn’t need to explain what he means. He knows how upset David is with everyone around him.

David sighs and squeezes his arm. “Just glad you’re here.” David also doesn’t need to explain that he means _I’m glad you’re in my life. You make me happy._

Patrick kisses his temple tenderly and Alexis pops over and makes a comment about them being baby chickens or something.

“Cheep cheep, David!” she says when David shoos her away.

“I don’t know what that means,” he calls after her.

Everyone leaves the motel shortly after his mother’s tantrum. David wants to leave too because he can’t deal with her right now. But he stays because she needs his support. He can’t do what he wants; he can’t celebrate, and Patrick has to leave as well and this, too, is a tragedy.

X

After that, David doesn’t really get to spend any quality time with Patrick for two days.

Because the next day (Day 3 of their engagement) is Patrick’s day off, so it’s David’s duty to run the store without him. Normally, he doesn’t mind, once the blunder of morning time is over with (who the fuck had set the standard for business hours to start before 10AM?). But today, he does mind, because he can’t work—he’s too distracted. He can’t stop thinking about Patrick. Patrick and his stupid smile when he’s teasing David. Patrick and his strong forearms in his cool tone department store button-downs. Patrick thrusting the air in that Cabaret costume. His mind just keeps returning there. He wanted to fuck Patrick when he saw him on stage like that in that _outfit_. Actually, he thinks, he wants to fuck Patrick in that outfit right now, too.

He’d been deprived the previous night, and now he was sexually frustrated, and it’s all he can think about. Maybe he could get Patrick to wear just the straps and no other garments while he sucked him off. He would pull the ones on his inner thighs and snap them back, making Patrick gasp. Maybe _David_ could try—

Just then, a woman comes up to him and clears her throat. She is sporting an armful of various toiletry items to purchase. David has to wonder how long she’s been standing here at the counter, waiting for him to break out of his reverie.

As he rings her up and goes through the pleasantries stiffly, he thinks how it just would be better if Patrick were here. Then, David could just stop thinking about him, because he could just talk to him instead and tell him in person exactly how much he liked the show last night.

The woman finally leaves, and the store is empty so David texts Patrick.

**Dinner tonight?**

Patrick doesn’t respond until later that afternoon.

 **I would love to but im exhausted.**  
**All those pulsing squats.. i should**  
**rest for the show tmrw. Very very**  
**soon tho <3**

David hopes the heat that rushes to his face at reading “pulsing squats” is invisible to the customers still lingering in the store.

David brings a bottle of wine home at the end of the day.

X

He does still see Patrick briefly, because he goes that night to support the cast of Cabaret once again.

Patrick is just getting his stage makeup on when David peeks in to say hi.

Seeing Patrick in the full outfit again—with all those buckles and those damn _straps—_ makes him instantly half-hard. He groans a little, but he thinks it’s justified honestly.

“David, hi!” he gives David a soft peck. “How was the store today?”

“Um, it was fine. Frustrating. Too many people,” by which he means _not enough you._

“Aww, my poor baby had a tough day.” His voice is sarcastic, but David blushes and he has the thought that Patrick knew exactly what he just did.

He gets to talk to Patrick for just a couple more minutes—he tells him how great he’s going to be on stage and he pets the back of his head a little—but then Patrick has to go. Well, his departure is more due to his mother's insistent flailing forcing him out, rather than leaving by his own choice. Tensions are high with Moira being ever the Directorzilla, or whatever you want to call it, since her movie got dropped. She paces around shouting and wailing in her typical melodramatic manner, only magnified by ten.

“David! Not all of us have the luxury of leisure on our hands! Time is an expeditiously forthcoming ship that will depart with or without us to the seas of yonder! We mustn’t dawdle!”

X

After the show, David finds Patrick’s dressing room, because maybe he can finally squeeze in some time with the one person he really wants to see most right now.

Once again, he is hit with a powerful wave of _want_ when he sees Patrick sitting in his chair, now all sweaty from his performance. He has taken off the jacket, and the tank sticks to him like a second skin. David fights the urge to touch—to go over right then and take fistfuls of the fabric on his torso; force it up so he can get right to skin. Smooth, slick skin; toned muscle underneath.

Patrick turns when David enters, giving him a tired, but still very bright smile.

David walks over to him and tugs him tightly to his chest. Patrick’s arms wrap around his waist in a familiar embrace.

“You were amazing once again. Who knew my fiancé was so talented?”

“Fiancé,” Patrick repeats, beaming. David has to kiss that smile—he can’t help it.

Patrick squeezes him gently and runs his tongue across David’s lip. They kiss for a few minutes, David pulling Patrick to him, and Patrick’s hands ever moving. But eventually, it becomes obvious that Patrick is exhausted—letting himself be kissed more than he is actively kissing—so David pulls away.

“I know you’ll need to get some sleep, so I’ll let you go now.” David’s smile is weak as he looks at Patrick. He doesn’t let go quite yet, though.

Patrick pulls him closer by the neck and says, “I’ll make it up to you.” His voice is in that low gravelly register that always turns David on in an instant. He kisses David just under his ear, and then drops his embrace.

David can only stand there and swallow a bit, but Patrick squeezes his hand, kisses it, then says goodnight for him.

X

Then, on the fourth day of their engagement, David does not work.  It’s now  _his_ usual off day, and he really feels like he needs it. However, it does mean he has to spend the whole day once again without Patrick. He tries not to think about Patrick’s promise. _I’ll make it up to you._

He sighs. At least he’s not working.

David makes plans to surprise Patrick after work by waiting for him in his apartment. He has a key. If he had an apartment of his own, he would be delighted to have someone there waiting for his company. He thinks maybe he’ll take the nice bottle of wine he brought home the night before but never drank. Patrick would probably scold him for not paying for it, but he wouldn’t mind, not really. They could share a drink and then get too distracted to finish it.

He needs to fight the excited anticipation that threatens to overtake him, so he forces himself to relax and make the most of his day off—he does a face mask; he scrolls through social media. He is halfway through the first chapter of a novel that’s been sitting on his nightstand for a year when he feels like he’s going to die of boredom. It’s only 12:30.

If he’s going to die, he doesn’t want to do it alone, so he bugs Stevie until she finally agrees to keep him company.

He leans over her shoulder while she clicks answers to BuzzFeed quizzes on what might be the original desktop computer. It’s a good distraction from this thrumming energy underneath is skin.

“Order brunch and we’ll tell you which 90s character you share a secret with. Why are all these titles so long?”

“And so stupid,” Stevie says, but clicks it anyway.

David is hoping for a Lisa Turtle adjacent result, but gets Monica Geller instead.

“This is… surprisingly accurate,” Stevie says as she skims the page, her smile growing more and more mocking. “'You’re a perfectionist. You feel the need for control in your life. You’re a total neat freak, but like Monica, you have a secret messy closet in some aspect of your life or another.' What’s _your_ secret messy closet, David?”

“Ok. Shall we see what _your_ closet is?” He clicks to restart the quiz for Stevie.

She gets Willow from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

“What? This is so not me. She’s too... sweet.”

“Hmm. ‘Plays by the rules...' but! It says here, ‘has hidden talents unknown to others… is very powerful and assertive when she needs to be. ...probably gay!!’” David turns to her with his mouth open in comic shock. He nudges her a little, bumping his shoulder to hers. “Stevie, is your closet the _actual_ closet?”

“These quizzes are dumb! Like French toast and Bloody Marys tell you anything about me.”

“Mm-hmm,” David remarks, smiling wide.

Just then, someone walks in presumably to check in to their room.

“I’ll start planning the coming out party!” David calls over his shoulder as he starts walking towards the exit.

“Enjoy your life with Chandler, Mrs. Bing!”

X

At around 4:15, David decides to just head over to Patrick’s place early. He can’t sit around any longer, especially with his mother’s negative energy and his sister asking him questions every six seconds like, “how many hats should I pack? I already have three brown hats, but do you really need three brown hats on an island? Like will there even be people there to appreciate the differences in each hat? Maybe I could take this blue one instead?”

He does bring the wine (it’s a fancy red blend—high alcohol content per volume). To make up for not being able to properly celebrate. _I’ll make it up to you_ echoes in his head.

He knows that Patrick wouldn’t be home just yet when he unlocks the front door and peers around through the entryway. He’s probably just about closing up the shop now. It’s still a disappointment anyway.

He slips his shoes off by the front door (sock feet _are_ correct in private spaces) and moves to the kitchen to the right to open up the bottle of wine. He knows you’re supposed to let it breathe or something, so that’s what he does. Not that it matters anyway, they probably won’t be enjoying the wine for too long—they have other things to enjoy first.

David then wanders around the apartment, idly tidying things and pushing chairs in. The space is tidy already, so he gingerly sits himself down on the sofa, feet tucked under him, and turns on the TV to pass the time. One of the channels is halfway through a showing of Legally Blonde, so he settles in.

Almost an hour later, the movie is wrapping up to a finish and Patrick is still not home. David starts to worry—what if he got hit by a car? What if he broke a leg and had to go to the hospital? What if some creepy man kidnapped him from the store? He then also thinks it’s possible Patrick could come home any minute now and freak out about sounds coming from his apartment. So he texts him—just to make sure he’s ok.

 **Hey. So im at your apt rn… was**  
**going to surprise you but then i**  
**started thinking maybe you would**  
**be scared someone broke in when**  
**you got home**

**So yeah. Im here. Just. FYI**

**Oh! Thats surprisingly sweet of you**  
**David. I just had to get some groce-**  
**ries.**

**Hang tight.**

X

David is more bored than ever, waiting for Patrick and “hanging tight,” so he starts to snoop.

He opens the door to Patrick’s bedroom and that’s when he sees the outfit. Patrick’s MC costume from the play. It’s all hung up and put together, draping on the back of the desk chair in Patrick’s bedroom. It smells like him, and probably hasn’t been washed since he last wore it the previous night. David’s cock stirs.

An urge enters his mind, growing and building, festering until it becomes obsessive. He has to try it on; needs to. He had wanted to be in Patrick’s skin when he’d seen him on stage, but the outfit is close enough. Patrick had worn this and had been so open and raw, had been dazzling.

He really shouldn’t touch it. He would stretch it out. Last night was the last performance of Cabaret, but maybe Patrick would need it again, or maybe he had to return it.

But he wants to wear it around like a prize. Like a claim: Here is my talented fiancé’s costume, I have access to this wonderful, sexy man and no one else does.

He reaches out and runs his hand along the fabric, just a small test, really.

All of a sudden David is putting it on. He folds his clothes neatly on the desk and then he is pulling the tank over his head. It fits taut against his chest, and his chest hair sticks out wildly. Patrick’s thighs are thicker than his, so the shorts are actually a bit loose, but not so much that they are falling off. He tucks the tank into the band of the shorts. By the time he is pulling up the stockings and fastening the buckle on his shins, he’s already almost fully hard.

He steps back out to the living room where there’s a sizeable mirror—the one in Patrick’s room is only big enough to see his face. He likes the way he looks in Patrick’s clothes, likes seeing himself so close to him.

He thinks of Patrick glowing on that stage, how David had wanted to stride up there and fuck him in front of everyone. To pull him down on top of him by the straps. David’s knees start to feel like jello, so he sits back down on the couch.

The straps on his legs land just on the crease where his thighs begin—they’re teasing him. He runs his hands over his thighs, then slowly moves them inward toward his crotch. He ruminates more on Patrick’s muscular thighs, and how they stretched out these very shorts.

They have been engaged for just over 72 hours and the last time they had sex was now over two days ago. David can’t fucking stand it anymore, he needs Patrick. He starts to palm his dick more heavily through the crotch of the outfit. He runs through several scenarios in his mind of what Patrick could do to him, what he could do to Patrick if Patrick were still wearing the costume.

David loves Patrick. He loves the sounds he makes, the way he sometimes whimpers when David is teasing. He loves his broken moans as he gets closer to the edge. David loves when his head is between Patrick’s thighs and his legs start to shake. And when he looks down at David and bites his lip. He loves Patrick’s death grip on his head right when he’s about to finish. The way he pulls David back up to taste himself on David’s lips.

Fuck, he’s close now, David loves him.

Then, David hears the lock click on the front door and he freezes. He is mortified to be sitting here pleasuring himself in Patrick’s living room, but also he is desperate for the contact and he wants to continue. His heart beats in double time.

Patrick has his arms full of grocery bags, and he doesn’t quite see David as soon as he walks in. He fumbles with locking the door and David holds his breath.

“Sorry, David! Didn’t mean to make you wait. But then, I didn’t expect you. I was at the grocery store and then the machine wouldn’t—” he finally turns and cuts himself off when he sees David. He must look _obscene_.

David presses his lips together hard as Patrick takes him in for a moment. He’s wearing that face where he looks both serious and amused. It’s like a fire in David’s veins.

“I—” David tries, but he can’t. Patrick has this light in his eyes as he drops the groceries right there on the floor and strides over to David on the couch.

Patrick hovers over him; takes David’s face in his hands and tugs, bringing their lips together in a heated kiss.

David breaks off. “You—you’re just gonna leave the food there?”

Patrick smiles against his cheek and sits down on the couch with him, half on top of him. Then he kisses David again. “Mm.”

“But, it could go bad if—”

“So you’ve just been sitting here, on my couch, in my apartment, _wearing this_? Waiting for me?”

“Well, not just sitting.”

“Oh?”

David gives Patrick a meaningful look.

He doesn’t really get a chance to fully elaborate. Because there’s no good excuse for why he would reasonably be sitting here, wearing this costume, face flushed and almost more turned on than he’s ever been… so it becomes obvious enough.

“Show me.” Patrick’s eyes are bright, warm, melted caramel in the soft white light filtered through of the apartment. David just looks up at him, slightly dumbstruck. He’s too aroused to think or even remember what they were talking about.

Patrick is helpful.

“Did you run your hands down your chest like this? Did you tease your thighs and imagine your fingers were mine? Show me.” Again his voice reaches that quiet, deep register that drives David wild.

David whines. He reaches out and touches two fingers to Patrick’s lips, delighted when his tongue pokes out and he starts sucking them. He pulls them out after a moment and dips them under the fabric of his shirt, stretching it down a bit. He circles his nipples with his now wet fingers and gives a pinch.

“If I close my eyes, it’s kind of like your tongue.”

“What else did you imagine my tongue doing?”

David hisses as Patrick puts his thigh in between David’s and grinds down.

“Tell me, David.”

“God. I—Biting. Marking me, making me yours.”

Patrick pushes him so that he’s laying down, his head nestled in the crook of the couch arm. He bends down and kisses David’s neck where it meets his shoulder. He scrapes his teeth gently and sucks lightly on the skin—just teasing. “Like this?”

“Patrick.” David squirms.

Patrick sinks his teeth in, hard. Not enough to bleed, but enough to fucking hurt.

“Ah!” David’s hips jerk. Patrick licks over the area to soothe it a bit. He grinds his hips down again, starting a rhythm now.

“What else did you imagine, David—waiting for me to come home and ‘not just sitting’ here?”

He bends down further, and David almost cries from the sudden lack of friction. But then Patrick is pulling the straps surrounding David’s groin and putting his mouth over his clothed erection. His breath is so hot and damp and David actually does cry out.

“David,” Patrick’s tone is urgent. “I need—tell me, baby.” David is flushed from the tips of his ears to his chest. The term of endearment suddenly brings him somehow to an even more hopelessly and desperately aroused state. He slowly unbuttons the shorts and David can’t stop his hips from jerking. The straps really restrict how much Patrick can reach, but it’s enough to pull David’s cock out and smear pre-come across the head.

“Fuck! Fucking you! On stage where everyone can see.”

Patrick picks up his speed, using his hand to push David close to the edge, to make him sob with pleasure.

“And then?” Patrick’s voice is so low and sultry, and he speaks directly into David’s ear now. David hadn’t been aware of him moving up there, but his whole body is pressed into David’s. He is everywhere.

“Patrick, fuck, ohh! And then it was me! It was me on stage in this, God, costume, in front of everybody, and everybody could see me getting fucked in the ass by my fiancé!”

It took only two, three more strokes and then David was consumed by pure bliss, pulsing into his fiancé’s hand. He curls his body into Patrick’s, pushing his face into Patrick’s neck as waves of pleasure continue to roll through his body.

“I didn’t realize this was a fantasy of yours,” Patrick quips when David finally starts to recover. He strokes his broad hands soothingly over David's back, skimming underneath the light fabric of the tank top to reach bare skin.

David smiles into his neck. “I told you you were sexy.”

“Hmm. Not that you wanted to fuck me on stage in front of everyone, though.”

It feels good, Patrick’s hands on him, his body pressed close. For days, he’d felt like he didn’t get to bask properly in the glow of their engagement. He feels like no one has properly recognized this incredibly significant accomplishment in his life, feels like no one is proud of him. But Patrick is here and Patrick loves him and Patrick will bask with him. Patrick will always be everything he needs.

“I know you planned the announcement out perfectly. I’m sorry it didn’t go your way.”

David hums. “This is enough. This is perfect.” _You’re perfect, everything is perfect_ , _I love you,_ David wants to say but his throat closes and he can’t form the words.

David shifts so that he can look at Patrick, and maybe convey what he means telepathically. But when he moves, Patrick hisses, and David realizes he’s still very much aroused. His cheeks and his neck are flushed, and he bites his lip as David grins at him.

Patrick looks down at David’s lips, and if nothing else is, that in itself is a beckon for David to kiss him. So he does. He presses his lips gently to Patrick’s and is—as ever—surprised at how soft and pillowy they are. He sucks Patrick’s bottom lip gently into his mouth, gives a little teasing nip. Patrick makes a soft noise and David can’t help smiling a little into the kiss.

He breaks away from Patrick’s mouth and brushes his lips down the side of his neck. He alternates between soft, closed-mouth kisses and wet, open-mouthed ones as he travels down to Patrick’s chest, opening buttons as he goes. David lightly bites down on his collarbone and tugs on Patrick’s shirt so it becomes untucked. He slides his hands up his back, pressing his fingertips to bare skin, then scratching his nails back down. Patrick’s skin jumps underneath his hands and he exhales a shaky sigh.

David looks up at Patrick then, into his eyes, and he looks so lovely, so tender. And David is consumed with the need to wreck him. He feels a fire light him up inside as he hurries to unbutton Patrick’s jeans. He has no time for Patrick’s shirt, so it remains haphazardly unbuttoned and hiked up around his midsection.

“Up,” David says, and immediately, Patrick is lifting his hips so David can yank his jeans and underwear off. He’s spares a brief moment to be glad that Patrick doesn’t wear tight skinny jeans.

After a lot of desperate wriggling and tugging of fabric, David bends down again and kisses the soft skin of Patrick’s inner thighs. He pays extra attention to the crease of skin where his leg meets his ass. Patrick’s cock keeps bumping into his cheek or the side of his head, and each time, it makes Patrick groan and wriggle.

“David,” Patrick whispers curling his fingers in David’s hair. David applies his teeth where his lips had been, sucking, scraping, making Patrick writhe in controlled urgency under his tongue.

“Do you want to know what else I imagined?” David says softly, his eyes very dark.

“David,” he says again, this time crying out and desperate.

Finally, David takes pity and takes Patrick into his mouth. Patrick sighs, but it almost sounds like a shout.

David starts off very slowly, sliding the shaft into his mouth and offering little suction, as if he just wants a taste. He moves his mouth around Patrick up and down, his pace slow and gentle—teasing. Patrick gives the tiniest little sound, like a whimper. David moves his hands over Patrick’s thighs, reaching behind him until he’s grasping for purchase on Patrick’s ass. With a tight hold, he pushes Patrick’s hips forward, urging him deeper into his mouth. Patrick gasps, but does not pick up a rhythm from there.

When he does it again, Patrick starts moving his hips minutely, his hands tightly grasping David’s shoulders now to keep control.

With slight reluctance, David pauses, pulling his mouth off and replacing the friction with his hands for just a moment.

“Please,” he says quietly.

“David—”

“Please fuck my mouth. I—I need you to fuck my mouth.”

He takes the head of Patrick’s cock between his lips again and starts to suck hard now. He looks up at Patrick pleadingly, then grabs fistfuls of his ass and _tugs_.

“Fu—ohhh,” Patrick moans. And he starts set a pace much more up to David’s liking.

David continues to encourage him with his hands grasping and pulling at Patrick. He lets himself explore as he massages and gropes and trails a finger down the cleft of his ass.

Patrick says something with a shaky breath, but it’s incomprehensible. As Patrick gets closer, his self-control wanes and he starts pounding into David’s mouth. David moans around him and it sets Patrick off faster.

He calls David’s name over and over, his fingernails now sinking into David’s shoulders. His legs tremble and David runs his hands over his thighs. He wants to feel the orgasm running through him, making him tense with pleasure.

While still caressing one thigh, David reaches out a hand to Patrick’s balls. He massages them gently, rolling them around. He looks up at Patrick through his eyelashes and then he gives one, steadfast _jerk_ and Patrick is coming.

His face is beautiful, scrunched up as if in pain, but crying out in euphoria. His body shudders and seizes over and over, then he is collapsing next to David.

David feels a little euphoric, too. He doesn’t know what he expected when Patrick got home, but as he lies there next to his blissed out husband-to-be, he starts to swell with emotion. This was supposed to be fun, maybe a little kinky. He’s maybe supposed to be feeling shameful—he was literally just caught masturbating in the middle of a living room that wasn’t his. He wasn’t supposed to have to _feel_ … like… this. Fuck, he is in love and he is marrying the love of his life.

And he has never felt happier in his entire life.

Patrick stretches up and bites David’s chin affectionately. He wraps his arms around David, and David leans into him, letting this feeling surround him and make him feel whole.

X

“You asked for Stevie’s blessing,” he says after a while. They’re still cuddling on the couch together, although they did take a reluctant break to clean up and put away the groceries on the floor that were still salvageable. (David apologizes about the groceries but it comes out more as an apology _to_ the groceries, and Patrick promises to buy him replacement ice cream sandwiches soon.)

“Is that ok?”

He twists his face up, but it does not work to hide his smile. He’s too happy. He can’t make words come out of his mouth, so he just nods his head instead.

“So, are you taking my name or… do I take yours? How does this work? What do you think?”

“Oh my god,” David groans and throws his head back.

But then he burrows his head into Patrick’s neck and he can hear Patrick’s soft chuckle in his ear. Patrick strokes his hair, his arms. Everywhere he can reach.

Then Patrick holds David’s face in his hands and kisses him and he’s just so goddamn deliriously happy. He lets the feeling flood him, and hopes Patrick feels it spilling over so that he’s happy, too.

X

End.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Omg, that one line of Moira dialogue is the stupidest thing I’ve ever written, I’m so embarrassed. I think I will never write Moira again lol. I appreciate those of you who do it so well.
> 
> I'm sooo looking forward to reading all of your submissions to this, and thank you very much to the Open Fic Night peeps for throwing this together and probably sweating profusely while I and probably many others posted at the very last possible minute. Cheers.


End file.
